Unexpected
by cwamcd
Summary: Lord Voldemort enjoys the irony of teaching Harry Potter his first spell. Oneshot.


Hello all. Just some stupid little oneshots here as I try to jump back into my main story after a long hiatus. Get back into the swing of things. This is actually pretty close to canon, which is weird for me. I only tweaked things a bit so I can make a joke at the end. I really don't like how it turned out, but then again it's only a little piece of fluff to get myself writing again.

I own nothing.

 **Unexpected**

Well.

So.

…...right.

Lord Voldemort never thought he'd find himself in this situation. Which, in all fairness, is a reasonable thought.

One thing he prided himself on was his widely acknowledged mental prowess, and his ability to accept the improbable and create the impossible. It was this aspect of himself which made it so easy, back in the eighties, to accept an infant as his mortal enemy with minimal hesitance. He was the Dark Lord, and he was not so short sighted to not see the possibilities.

Nevertheless, the possibility, nay fact, that the situation he currently found himself facing, would occur simply never crossed his mind. Then again, why would it? It was almost amusingly absurd.

In a bid to capture the fabled Philosopher's Stone in order to create a physical body for himself, Lord Voldemort had possessed the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and infiltrated Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where said stone was being held. Also of note was the fact that the aforementioned mortal enemy happened to be beginning his magical education the very same year, and was now one of the twenty or so silent faces staring at Quirrel expectantly, waiting for him to begin the lesson. And Voldemort just stared blankly back, as he wrapped his head around the realization that it would be he to teach his prophesied vanquisher his first spell, and start him down the road to arming himself against him.

And it was Voldemort to conduct this class, not Quirrel. While usually he would have the reigns for classes, well for any menial task actually, Voldemort had decided to take control for this exception. As ironic as this day was, it was a momentous occasion nonetheless, and he would be present for it.

With a wry and somewhat curious smile slowly playing about Quirrel's lips, the darkest lord of modern times began an introduction on the disarming charm, keeping his voice low to draw attention away from the drastically reduced amount of stuttering, as he couldn't be bothered to replicate it. With every word spoken Voldemort was painfully aware of how...counterproductive this might be, but also of how necessary to keep the act alive and facilitate the end game of stealing the stone. He would also admit to a certain amount of interest in how this would play out. Just what was his nemesis made of?

As he had them stand up, pair off, and move an appropriate distance from each other, Voldemort moved amongst them, silently correcting grips. Passing by the Potter child, his eyes moved over a curious reddish brown wand held in long pale fingers. It was gripped as naturally as Tom Riddle had decades ago. He gave the boy a nod and moved onto a Ravenclaw girl, noticing out of the corner of his eye a slight smile at the simple approval.

Giving a final few words, Voldemort moved off to the corner and told the class to begin their attempts. A cacophony exploded into being, half the children shouting "Expelliarmus" in varying cadences and volumes, but united in their lack of success. But Voldemort had eyes only for the young Potter, as the other half took their turn. He watched intently as the boy focused on perfecting the wand movement and succeeded marvelously, only to halfheartedly murmur the incantation, and obviously (to Voldemort at least) make no effort to connect his magic to the invocation. He watched as even with the kid trying to not perform, he almost produced the charm on his third try, only to abort at the last second with a sharp downward jerk of his wand. Fighting an eyebrow that wanted to rise in intrigue, Voldemort analyzed what he was seeing and hummed in fascination.

Finally, about ten minutes later, he watched Potter glance over as the mudblood Gryffindor girl became the first to send her partner's wand flying, and seem to relax a bit. A few more minutes passed and a Ravenclaw girl of Asian descent met with success. The moment some nameless Ravenclaw boy became the third, Potter's eyes met those of his Weasley companion and the charm flashed, Weasley's wand not only being torn from his possession but sailing into Potters other hand.

Interesting.

It was a result that promised challenge. The Dark Lord in him might be of the opinion that warranted early impediment. The person he was though felt a thrill and could only find it in himself to anticipate this boy one day rising to meet him. He would inevitably triumph over said challenge, of course, but he would face the test regardless.

Voldemort unobtrusively chuckled to himself, slipping into the recesses of Quirrel's mind. Whatever came of this, it had been a noteworthy day. And besides, it wasn't like he had anything to fear from a schoolyard spell like the disarmer.


End file.
